


A Sailor's Grave

by illgetmyspade



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Christmas Fluff, Drowning, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:01:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29275122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illgetmyspade/pseuds/illgetmyspade
Summary: Geoffrey is (almost) murdered for killing the wrong leech, but London's deadest doctor is, luckily, on Priwen's side.Geoffrey also loses his bow, but hey, it's Christmas soon.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum & Jonathan Reid, Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Kudos: 40





	A Sailor's Grave

**Author's Note:**

> It was supposed to be a one chapter thing, but I lack the patience to finish the second part before posting.  
> Also, it's not beta-read, apologies for typos and inconsistencies (they might be fixed eventually).

_And should I remain at sea, pray for me, for my grave will be cold, dark, and lonely.  
_ _\- unknown sailor, 1942_

Geoffrey McCullum had always known this day would come.

He’d prepared for it from the day Carl Eldritch took him in.

Now he was on his knees, struggling to steady his breathing, looking up at the ekon towering over him, and all he felt was fear. Paralysing, nauseating fear.

He knew he only had himself to blame for it, too.

_The night had begun well, McCullum had set out to patrol with one of the new recruits, a young lad named Jack._

_It was one of the boy’s first patrols, and Geoffrey decided to keep to the calm parts of the city. Jack was nervous, as was to be expected, though he did his best not to let it show._

_“Are we going to check the sewers?” he asked hopefully, unconsciously reaching for the revolver at his side._

_“No,” Geoffrey shook his head, “I think we’ll pay the Pembroke a visit tonight.”_

_“Why?” The young guard looked at him in surprise. “Dr Reid hasn’t been causing trouble, has he?”_

_The leech doctor was always a touchy subject with McCullum, everybody in the Guard knew that – but everybody in the Guard also knew that their leader didn’t really consider Reid a threat anymore, even though he would of course never admit that. Some guards even joked that McCullum must have taken a liking to the ekon, considering that he let him join their patrols on a regular basis now._

_“I bloody hope not,” Geoffrey growled, “but it’s always better to keep an eye on that place, especially now that Swansea is a feckin’ leech, too.”_

_“But shouldn’t we—"_

_The young guard was cut off by a shriek. Though muffled by distance and fog, it made both of them jump._

_“What was that?” Jack whispered, moving a bit closer to his leader._

_“Fuck if I know,” Geoffrey shrugged. He strained his ears for another sound, but there was only silence. “That came from the Thames, near the harbour.” He was reluctant to go there with just a rookie at his side, but on the other hand he knew they couldn’t just ignore this. “Come on,” he said quietly, motioning Jack to follow him._

_The closer they got to the river, the denser the fog became. The flames of Geoffrey’s torch cast an eerie glow on their surroundings but did little to actually illuminate them._

_“Maybe it’s nothing,” Jack said, nervously glancing around. He wished they could wait for another patrol to join them._

_Before Geoffrey could reply anything, he spotted a dark figure lying motionlessly on one of the wharfs below them._

_“Shite,” he muttered, “we’re too late.” He checked his crossbow before he climbed down the nearest ladder leading to the wharf, telling Jack to stay put and keep an eye out._

_They were too late, indeed – the body on the planks belonged to a man who was lying in a pool of his own blood. Just as Geoffrey decided this couldn’t be the work of a leech, not with all that blood gone to waste, a shadow materialised behind him, and with a jolt of fear he realised the mistake he’d made. He raised his crossbow and tried to take aim, but he was too slow, completely taken by surprise._

_The first hit struck his shoulder so hard that he cried out in pain, dropping his arm. The second blow aimed at his neck, and when it landed, Geoffrey’s vision went dark. He collapsed without a sound, falling to the ground unconscious._

_The first thing McCullum noticed when he came to was the cold. A split second later, a numb pain in his shoulders registered. It took him another second to remember where he was and what had happened. He was lying on his side, his arms painfully twisted and bound behind his back, he couldn’t move his legs and he was stripped down to his waist. He tried to move into a more comfortable position when a hand gripped a shock of his hair and yanked him upright._

“Now, now, McCullum, you just lie still,” a soft voice chastised him.

Geoffrey growled at the ekon before him, but before he could tell him to go fuck himself, the man slapped him hard across the face, anticipating the hunter’s reply.

“Watch your tongue,” the leech warned, though his smile remained treacherously friendly. “And don’t do anything rash – for the sake of your friend.” He motioned to Jack, who lay motionlessly on the wooden planks beside Geoffrey.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you if you hurt him,” the Irishman hissed, but the ekon only laughed.

“Of course you will,” he nodded sardonically. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?” he added after a second.

“I know _what_ you are, dirty feckin’ leech,” Geoffrey spat. The ekon’s polite demeanour couldn’t fool him. He knew blood drinkers were creatures of deceit. If nothing else, the man’s glowing red eyes were sign enough of his true nature.

“I might just be a leech,” the ekon grinned, pausing. “But I am the leech who brought down the mighty leader of the Guard of Priwen.”

Geoffrey snorted derisively. “Get on with it then, bastard.”

“Don’t be so eager to die,” the ekon replied. “You see, the thing is--” he began and grabbed Jack by the coat, lifting him in an upright position. The boy’s body was limp, though a soft moan told Geoffrey that he was still alive. “The thing is, McCullum, you killed my brother.”

For a moment, the hunter was confused, although he tried to hide it. “Must’ve deserved it,” he muttered, surprised the leech didn’t hit him again for that.

“Maybe,” the ekon shrugged. “But he was my brother, so it doesn’t really matter.” He gently brushed over the rookie’s head, then, knowing that McCullum was watching him closely, he tightened his hold.

“I didn’t know your brother,” Geoffrey growled, struggling in vain to free his hands. He felt the chill of the November night creep into his bones, shuddering despite himself. He was tired of the leech’s games, and he still had no idea where to place him, let alone who his damned brother was. “Leave him alone,” he pointed at Jack, “he has nothing to do with this.”

The ekon laughed, and he sounded genuinely amused. “But of course he does,” he finally replied with a chuckle, in a strangely conversational tone, before his mood seemed to change all of a sudden. “He’s Priwen, isn’t he?” he hissed, baring his fangs at the Irishman. “Your fucking lot are all the same, killing vampires is your business, you don’t even give a fuck who you kill. Like my brother, you don’t even remember him!”

Geoffrey clenched his teeth. The ekon wasn’t even wrong. “What do you want?” he finally said, unwilling to hide the anger in his voice. “A feckin’ apology? Who was your brother anyway, some rotten skal?”

“An apology would be a nice start, yes,” the ekon smiled, before adding in a soft voice, “You can still save the boy.”

Geoffrey looked at the young guard. “What do I have to do?” he whispered.

“Nothing – just yet,” the ekon replied cheerfully, then he dropped Jack’s body and stepped close to Geoffrey.

The first blow took Geoffrey by surprise. He had anticipated something more… _leechy_. Instead, the ekon went for brute force, though he made sure not to use his claws. He punched the hunter in the face, hitting the sides of his jaw until the Irishman could no longer stay on his knees, then targeted his midsection until Geoffrey blacked out again.

He couldn’t have been unconscious for more than a minute or two, but when he woke up, it seemed to him as if it had grown considerably colder. His entire body was hurting, and it felt like he was both freezing and burning up. He stifled a groan.

“That was fun, wasn’t it,” the ekon said, giving Geoffrey a sly grin. “Alas, play time’s over now.” He grabbed Jack by the hair and before the hunter even realised what was happening, he slit the boy’s throat with one of his claws.

The young guard made a gurgling sound, but his body remained limp and motionless as the blood spurted from the severed artery. At least he hadn’t regained consciousness, Geoffrey thought. “I’ll kill you for this, leech,” he whispered, his face distorted with hatred. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“No, you won’t.” The ekon pursed his lips, shaking his head slightly. “And your fucking Guard of Priwen won’t, either. Your men won’t even know who to look for – after all, this here doesn’t really look like a vampire’s deed, does it?”

“You won’t get away with it,” the hunter hissed, sounding more certain than he really felt. “You’ll pay for this.”

“Well, like I said, we’re done here,” the ekon hummed listlessly. “Any last words, McCullum?”

Geoffrey spat out, giving the other man a hateful look. “Fuck you,” he hissed.

“Good choice,” the leech sneered. “Speaking of which – I’ll keep that lovely crossbow of yours, if you don’t mind. It certainly looks _very_ handy.” He grabbed Geoffrey by an arm and dragged him along the wharf until they reached its outer end. “As for this,” he said conversationally, pointing at the weight attached to the rope around Geoffrey’s boots. “Well, wouldn’t want you to surface too soon now, would we?” he snickered, then he shoved the hunter off the planks.

Falling backwards, Geoffrey did the only sensible thing he could think of. He cried Reid’s name as loud as he could. Then he hit the water, instantly dragged down by the weight. He struggled to free his hands, but the icy water numbed his fingers and arms, and cold and darkness took him in a crushing grip, relentlessly squeezing the life out of him.

Jonathan would later claim that it had been just a lucky coincidence.

But just like Priwen liked to keep tabs on him, he liked to know what areas they patrolled and what their leader in particular was up to.

At first, he had just tried to stay out of their sights as best as he could; they never let him pass without a fight, and fighting them was both tedious and took time he would have preferred to spend on doing his rounds. He was also getting tired of having to mend his clothes after every encounter with the lot. Yet after the meeting with Geoffrey on the cemetery, he’d more and more often ended up helping out patrols that were caught in fights with skals or ekons. It hadn’t taken too long for most guards to develop a little, albeit fragile trust in the leech – and he in them. They couldn’t deny he was a powerful ally though, and after a few weeks of reluctant cooperation, even the leader of the Guard of Priwen had eventually accepted his presence without his usual constant bickering.

Despite himself, Jonathan had begun to take a liking to the grumpy Irishman. McCullum wasn’t so bad after all, and the ekon had soon understood why he was such a powerful leader. He was certainly fearless and never hesitated to get into the thick of a fight, but he was also too reckless for his own good, in Jonathan’s opinion.

‘Damn, McCullum, what did you get yourself into now?’ the ekon wondered silently when he heard the hunter’s scream. He had lost the pair out of sight when he’d bumped into Rufus and stopped for a chat. He jumped the wall that separated him from the river. A vague fear of being too late settled in his stomach when he looked around. While the Irishman had grudgingly accepted his help on numerous occasions, he had never actually asked him for it, let alone called for him.

There was only one heartbeat on the wharf in the distance. “McCullum?” Jonathan called out, but the moment the dark figure turned and started running, he knew this wasn’t Geoffrey – by now, he was too familiar with the hunter’s movements. “Geoffrey!” he called again, shadow jumping to the wharf, just about to follow the fleeing figure when he remembered the splash he’d heard right before vaulting the wall. He ignored the two bodies, seeing that neither of them had a pulse and neither of them was McCullum. Focusing his vision, the ekon stared at the water until he saw a faint red glow of a heartbeat beneath the surface of the water. He didn’t hesitate another second, threw his coat on the planks, inhaled deeply and jumped.

Even with his heightened senses Jonathan couldn’t make out anything in the murky water except the frantic heartbeat below him. He knew he didn’t have much time when he finally got to the man whose heartbeat he’d followed. Up close he recognised McCullum’s face, distorted though it was by pain and fear. The hunter still struggled to get free, but his movements were already becoming sluggish and slow. The ekon put both his hands on Geoffrey’s face to still his movements, then he pressed his lips on his mouth, feeding him the air he had in his lungs. For a few seconds, the hunter’s movements stilled, but when Jonathan drew back, he resumed his struggle to get free. Jonathan did his best to help him, but the rope around his legs was tied so tightly that he couldn’t undo the knot. He felt Geoffrey’s heartbeat grow faster again, and this time he had no more air to give him. Desperately, Jonathan started to chew through the rope – his fangs were sharp, but the rope was so thick that precious seconds passed before he could tear the fibres and free the hunter. Grabbing McCullum around the waist, he swam to the surface as quickly as he could, hoping it wasn’t too late.

As soon as Jonathan had pulled the hunter onto the wharf, he turned him onto his back. There was no heartbeat. “Geoffrey, dammit, don’t do this,” he muttered, kneeling beside the Irishman, and put his hands on the man’s chest. He started pushing fast and hard, then switched to Geoffrey’s mouth to breathe air into his lungs. He kept compressing the hunter’s chest, keeping a steady rhythm, mindful of his own strength, praying that the man would start breathing again. “Geoffrey, come on,” he pleaded desperately, “breathe, _breathe_.”

As if Jonathan had somehow managed to get through to him, the hunter finally regained consciousness, coughing up the water he’d swallowed. Jonathan pulled him close, too relieved to even think of the Irishman’s injuries. “Oh Geoffrey! Thank God, you’re back, Geoffrey,” he whispered and brushed across the hunter’s forehead.

“Reid,” Geoffrey croaked, “you came.” His teeth were chattering so violently he could hardly speak.

Jonathan gave him a faint smile, then he grabbed his coat and wrapped it tightly around the hunter.

“Jack’s dead, isn’t he,” Geoffrey whispered, turning his head towards the bodies on the wharf.

Jonathan just nodded. “Was he one of your men?” he asked.

“Boy,” Geoffrey replied almost inaudibly, his voice made hoarse by pain. “He was just a boy.”

“I’m sorry,” the ekon said. He silently cursed himself for not being there when the hunter actually needed his help. “We’ve got to get you dry before you catch pneumonia, or worse.”

“Not the Pembroke,” Geoffrey groaned, voice husky with pain. Unconsciously, he wrapped an arm around the ekon’s neck. He was shivering uncontrollably, so Jonathan pulled him a little closer, careful not to hurt him.

“Don’t worry.” He knew that while injured Priwen guards were… tolerated at the Pembroke, Dr Swansea outright refused to treat McCullum or even let him near the hospital. There was only one option that was safe for both him and the hunter. “We’re not going to the Pembroke, Geoffrey,” he assured quietly.

When Reid arrived home, he was relieved to see that Avery was still up. He called for the butler as soon as he closed the door.

“Good Lord! Master Jonathan, what happened?!” Avery exclaimed as he came rushing into the hall. He stared at Reid, then at McCullum in his arms, wearing the doctor’s coat, moaning and trembling and hardly conscious.

“We fell into the Thames,” Jonathan muttered. “Please, Avery, could you make some tea for Geoffrey?”

“Certainly, Master Jonathan. The fire in the drawing room is still burning, it’s warm there. Will you be needing your bag?”

“Yes, please,” Jonathan nodded, thankful that the butler didn’t ask questions, even though he was clearly worried.

Avery nodded and rushed upstairs, while Jonathan made his way to the drawing room. He gently put Geoffrey down on the settee in front of the fireplace. “Let’s get you out of your wet things first, then I’ll see to your injuries,” he said quietly, helping the hunter take off the coat when Avery came back.

“Here’s your bag,” the butler said quietly, “and a towel and blanket for Mr McCullum.” He put everything on the settee, then, without another word, left again to go to the kitchen.

“I’m freezing,” the Irishman mumbled, teeth chattering loudly.

“I know, I know. You’ll feel better soon,” Jonathan replied, wrapping the blanket around Geoffrey’s shoulders. The hunter was all tense, trembling from the cold. “Can you stand up for a moment?” the doctor asked, but Geoffrey just moaned in pain, leaning back and pulling the blanket tighter around himself. Cautiously reaching out, Jonathan unbuckled the hunter’s belt, then he reached around his waist to pull down his wet trousers and pants. A sharp intake of breath from Geoffrey stopped his movement.

Muttering an apology, Jonathan took a closer look at McCullum’s injuries. His left hip bone was badly grazed and bleeding, and the fabric of the trousers stuck to the raw flesh. It wasn’t a grave injury, but certainly painful, and even though Jonathan peeled the fabric off as gently as he could, he knew he was causing the hunter great discomfort. “I’m sorry,” he said again, then he knelt down to take off McCullum’s boots and socks. The poor man’s feet were white and cold as ice. Turning slightly, Jonathan held his hands close to the flames for a moment, then he started massaging the hunter’s feet and lower legs to get the blood circulating again.

Geoffrey felt vaguely uneasy by his state of undress, but the gentle touch of the leech’s unusually warm hands was comforting. Through half closed eyes he watched Reid. The man—leech, he corrected himself half-heartedly, was so focused on what he was doing that he didn’t notice the hunter staring at him. It felt wrong, having the most powerful creature in the entire city care for him like this. Geoffrey wriggled his toes. Nobody had ever touched him like this, so gingerly and almost reverently, as if he were--

“That’s good, you can move your toes,” the doctor said, looking up. “It might feel a wee unpleasant when they warm up.”

Before the hunter could reply anything, the door opened again and Avery came in, carrying a tray with a pot of tea and two cups. “Is there anything I can help with?” he asked as he put down the tray.

“No, thank you Avery, that’d be all for the moment.” Jonathan gave him a faint smile, and for a moment the butler wondered at this whole strange situation. The master had never taken anybody home for medical treatment—rarely took anyone home, actually. And the gruff Irishman wasn’t the type the Reid family would normally associate themselves with in the first place. But there was a worried fondness in Jonathan’s face Avery had not seen in a long time, certainly not since he had returned from the war, not even when he was taking care of his ill mother. “I’m in the kitchen, if you need anything,” he said, then he left quietly.

“I’d rather have whisky,” Geoffrey grumbled when Jonathan sat down next to him and held a cup of tea to his lips.

“Sure,” the ekon nodded, “but not tonight. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not my doctor,” the Irishman muttered, but he drank the tea anyway. It tasted good and spread some warmth in his frozen body.

“Indeed,” Jonathan said, unperturbed. “Now let me have a look at your injuries.” He didn’t even wait for the hunter’s consent before he took his hands in his own. The rope had cut deeply into the flesh around his wrists. “Hold still,” he said quietly as he began to bandage each wrist.

Geoffrey watched the doctor through half-closed eyes. He was gentle – and, clearly, he was very good at what he did, the hunter realised. He shivered violently, and the ekon looked up.

“Am I--” Jonathan hesitated, “making you uncomfortable?”

Geoffrey thought for a moment, then he shook his head. “No.” He frowned. “You aren’t using yer leechy mind shite on me, Reid, are you?” His frown deepened when the ekon just laughed loudly, showing is fangs.

“Don’t be daft, Geoffrey, I am absolutely not using _any_ leechy shite on you.” Jonathan put a hand on the hunter’s shoulder. “You do know that, don’t you?”

The hunter studied the ekon’s pale eyes. “Why did you save me?” he asked instead of answering Jonathan’s question.

“You called for me,” the ekon replied, slightly surprised. “I’m only sorry I was too late—that I couldn’t save the young guard.”

“But why were you there?” Geoffrey continued. “You didn’t just show up there by chance, Reid. Were you following me?”

“I—wasn’t following you,” Jonathan shrugged, looking away. “I just… like to know what Priwen is up to, where you’re patrolling, so I don’t accidentally run into your—wardogs.”

“My wardogs, huh,” Geoffrey huffed, unconvinced by the ekon’s explanation. He knew very well that none of his men had engaged with Reid lately – on the contrary, they were relieved to have him fight on their side now…

“Look, does it even matter?” Jonathan evaded. “I was there, that’s all.”

Geoffrey shook his head, but he let it rest. He was certain that Reid had followed him, but he could not bring himself to believe that the ekon had any sinister motives. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

The doctor nodded, then he got up and grabbed the towel. “Your hair is still wet,” he explained almost apologetically as he started rubbing the hunter’s head dry. “Don’t want you to catch your death here.”

The hunter just huffed. Again, the touch was much too gentle and comforting for being a leech’s. The ekon even brushed over his head with his hand to straighten his hair a bit before he stepped back and put the towel away.

“Do you mind if I take a look at your other injuries?” he asked.

The Irishman sighed. As if the leech needed his permission to do anything, anyway.

Jonathan bandaged his hip, examined the bruises on his torso and cleaned his face, making sure that none of the cuts needed stitching, then he helped the hunter drink another cup of tea. “Listen, Geoffrey,” he finally began, “I’ll be gone for a short while. Your men need to know what happened, and I wouldn’t want them to raid my home in search of their leader. Avery’ll be here if you need anything. I promise I’ll be back soon,” he added incautiously, when knew perfectly well McCullum would have preferred him to stay as far away as possible.

The hunter just nodded, leaning back and closing his eyes. He felt drained and exhausted, and he was still cold to his bones. “Just don’t get yourself killed, leech,” he muttered.

The butler slipped in quietly just after Reid left. He put some more wood on the fire, then sat down in the chair besides the settee.

“Can I get you something to eat, Sir?” he asked.

The hunter hesitated. He wasn’t really hungry, but he worried more about what kind of food a bloodsucker’s butler might serve. He wondered if the man knew anything about the true nature of his “master” – if he did, he didn’t look like he was being held in the house against his will. “No, thank you.”

Avery nodded. “Please don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything you need. Master Jonathan doesn’t usually have friends around and—”

“Friends?” the hunter interjected. “What makes you think we’re friends?”

“Oh—” The butler looked genuinely surprised. “I thought—Master Jonathan did introduce you as a friend of his. I hadn’t realised—He always speaks exceptionally highly of you, Mr McCullum.”

“Yeh, I bet he does,” Geoffrey huffed, rolling his eyes. He was tired and hurting and would rather have rested than talked, but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to find out more about Reid.

Avery shot him a disapproving look. “It is not for me to say, Sir, but I thought your—differences were a thing of the past.”

“Our _differences_?”

The butler shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Look, I know who you are, Mr McCullum,” he said gravely, “and I know what you and your guard do. I may be an old fool, but I am not blind. I do not know _exactly_ what it is you hunt, but I do know you tried to kill Jonathan.” He held up his hand when Geoffrey wanted to interrupt him. “Jonathan was a different man when he came back from the war,” he sighed. “He took up all these strange new habits, he never eats, he sleeps all day, and he is so pale, _so_ pale…” He trailed off. “Madame Reid felt the changes very keenly, thought him dead just like the rest of the family—it really broke her.” Avery hesitated. “I don’t know _what_ it is that Jonathan has become, but inside, Mr McCullum, inside he is still that gentle, quiet and kind boy I helped raise in his father’s stead.”

Geoffrey swallowed. He would have liked to simply dismiss the butler’s words, but there was something in the man’s voice and face that stopped him. “Aren’t you—afraid of—of what he’s become?” he asked hesitantly and very quietly.

Avery gave a heavy sigh. He knew that Jonathan, taciturn as he was, would never tell the hunter what he needed to hear. He also knew that Jonathan would forgive him for it for telling McCullum what wasn’t his place to tell, eventually. “I have known Master Jonathan since he was born,” he began. “He had a happy childhood, growing up without a care in the world. But when his father disappeared—it was very hard for Jonathan. I know he could never really forgive him, but—” he looked the hunter directly in the eyes, “if anything, it has only made him more—gentle.”

“He’s really that good, isn’t he,” Geoffrey said, and this time his tone wasn’t as mocking as he wished it was.

Avery poured himself some tea. “Many people think him a haughty and arrogant man,” he said, “but it is how men of his standing are brought up, and the family’s social circles--” He broke off, aware that McCullum only cared about social conventions so long as they didn’t interfere with his line of work – if they meant anything to him at all. “Jonathan,” he continued after a pause, “is a very kind and sensitive man. I always thought he should never have gone off to the war, but he wanted to help, and he knew that his skills as a surgeon would be needed. He always wants to help, even when it is no business of his.” Here, the old man tacitly ignored the Irishman’s huff. “You know, a few weeks ago, he wanted to speak to me about Madame Reid’s health. He was sitting just where you are now, staring into the fire, and all of a sudden he told me that he had met someone. He called it ‘unlikely circumstances’,” Avery smiled, “how he time and again crossed paths with this fierce Irishman who’d even tried to kill him at some point.”

Geoffrey felt himself grow pale, but if the butler noticed, he didn’t let it show.

“I knew then it was you he was talking about, Mr McCullum, and I told him to stay away from you and the whole lot of Priwen, that you were trouble and up to no good. Master Jonathan just laughed, said he could take care of himself and praised your dedication and—skills.”

“Did he now,” Geoffrey muttered, pretending to be unmoved by what he’d heard. “First I ever hear of Reid praising anything I do,” he lied.

Avery shrugged, frowning slightly. He found the leader of the Priwen Guard to be quite as unpleasant as he had imagined him to be. Studying McCullum’s rough features, he wondered what made Jonathan think so highly of the man. Still, he trusted his judgement, so if he liked the Priwen leader in spite of everything that had happened between them, he certainly had his reasons. “Well, he did,” he said almost truculently. “He is a good man, even if you don’t want to see this. Sometimes I wonder whether it’s the war that changed him, or something that happened when he came back,” Avery said, “though I think he’s had that sadness about him for a long time, that sense that he was missing something… That is, missing something until he--” He fell silent, giving the hunter a curious look.

“Until he what?” Geoffrey asked, intrigued and as surprised at the butler’s openness as Avery himself was.

Before Avery could reply, the door to the drawing room opened. Both he and the butler turned, and they must have given Reid a guilty look, because the ekon stopped in his tracks, giving them a wary look.

“What is it?” he asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Avery said, a bit too quickly, shooting Geoffrey something akin to a warning glance.

“Made it back in one piece, huh,” the hunter said, trying to change the topic. “Did ye tell the lads what happened?”

Jonathan gave him an irritated look. “Why would I not make it back in one piece? And yes, I did. They said they would check on you in the morning,” he added, and, turning to Avery, “so don’t be alarmed when Priwen guards show up.”

Avery nodded and got up. “If there is nothing else you need, I will go to sleep.” He bowed slightly when the two men shook their heads and bid them a good night before he took his leave.

“How are you feeling?” Jonathan asked when they were alone.

“Still freezing, and it hurts like hell,” the hunter admitted. He sounded tired, but not nearly as belligerent as the ekon was used to.

“I’ll give you some morphine, so you can sleep,” Jonathan said, his voice soft with concern. He almost expected McCullum to object, but the man just moaned quietly, closed his eyes, and leant back. He didn’t even protest when the doctor pulled back the blanket so he could inject his thigh with a syrette. “There, you should feel better soon,” he said, rubbing the puncture with his thumb for a moment. “Let’s get you upstairs to bed. Can you walk?”

Geoffrey only grumbled in reply. He accepted Reid’s help getting up and walking, but he’d be damned to let the leech carry him up the stairs. Still, when the doctor put his arm around his waist, he was simply grateful for the support and the strange sense of warmth it provided.

Jonathan led him up the stairs, then along a corridor and into a room – judging by the clutter and the books on his desk and the skeleton in the corner, it was his own. He looked around, but his brain was too exhausted to register any details. There was a fire burning, but it was colder here than downstairs, and Geoffrey shivered.

“Here, sit down.” Reid gently pushed him towards the bed, and he sat down, closing his eyes. The morphine helped with the pain, but by now Geoffrey’s senses were so dulled that he hardly noticed what was happening to him.

“Geoffrey?” The hunter opened his eyes. Reid was standing in front of him, holding out a bundle of clothes. “I don’t know if they fit,” he apologised, waiting for McCullum to make a move that might tell him just how much the hunter minded his presence. Geoffrey mumbled an unintelligible reply and shoved the blanket from his shoulders. He didn’t look the ekon in the face, but when Jonathan took a step closer, he didn’t move, and when the doctor helped him put on a short-sleeved shirt, he didn’t protest. It was a bit tight, but the hunter was thankful anyway.

“Is the morphine helping?” the doctor asked as he knelt down to slip the pants over Geoffrey’s feet. “You’re still freezing,” he said when the hunter nodded.

“Aye, and your bloody cold hands aren’t helping,” the hunter huffed. Reid was still in his damp clothes, but of course he didn’t mind, damned leech.

“I know,” Jonathan replied, sounding almost sad, then he helped the hunter get up so he could put on the pants and pull back the bed cover. “Now get some rest,” the ordered.

Geoffrey hesitantly laid down, groaning from pain and exhaustion, then turned to lie on his side so his hip would hurt less. Resting his head on the pillow, he inhaled reflexively.

“Does it stink of vampire?” the ekon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No. It smells of you.”

Jonathan wasn’t quite sure what to do with the hunter’s reply, his unusually soft voice and relaxed face, so he just turned around, went to the wardrobe and started to undress. The Irishman watched him through half-closed eyes, although he told himself it was merely so he could learn more about bloodsuckers. The ekon’s pale, almost transparent skin was a given, but a large scar across Reid’s back caught his attention. It looked strangely fresh, and Geoffrey was somewhat surprised that the man’s undead state had apparently had no healing effect on that injury.

“That looks like it hurt,” Geoffrey said before he could stop himself.

“It really did.” So the hunter _had_ been watching him, Jonathan realised. “I almost died from it.” He nearly added that perhaps he’d been better off that way, but he was no longer sure whether he believed that himself. “You really should get some sleep, Geoffrey,” he said instead when he, now dressed in clean clothes, sat down in the chair next to the bed. “Can I get you anything?”

“A drink, please. And I really need to take a piss,” the hunter mumbled, sitting up.

“The bathroom is next door,” Jonathan said, getting up. “I’ll make you some tea, but if you need help—”

“Fuck no,” the Irishman growled, “I certainly don’t need your help with that.”

He was back under the sheets, still cold and feeling exhausted but considerably more at ease, when Reid came back with a steaming cup.

“I was hoping for something stronger ‘n tea,” the Irishman muttered when the ekon sat down on the bed beside him, helping him sit up.

“Yes, obviously. Now drink up.”

Geoffrey did just that, then he leaned back, slumping against Jonathan’s shoulder without realising what he was doing. “Mr Avery said you praised my dedication and skills,” he began after a moment of silence.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “And what else did you two talk about?”

“Just you, really,” Geoffrey bit back a grin as he felt the doctor tense up.

“So now you know all my secrets?” Jonathan snarled. He was slightly annoyed Avery had apparently talked very freely with the leader of the Priwen Guard – but then again, _he_ had left them alone, and he knew that McCullum could be rather convincing when it came to obtaining information that ought to have been withheld from him.

“Don’t worry, _leech_ , your secrets are all safe with me,” the hunter whispered, snuggling closer to the ekon.

Jonathan ascribed McCullum’s sudden and unexpected affection to the morphine and the hunter’s state of exhaustion. Whatever the reason for it, though, Jonathan certainly wasn’t going to refuse it. Instead, he pulled the other man into a slightly tighter embrace, resting his hand on McCullum’s upper arm.

Geoffrey apparently didn’t mind his cool touch, even though he was still freezing. He pulled the blanket up to his chin. “What happened when you went out, Reid? What did you tell my men?”

The ekon recounted how he’d gone out looking for a patrol, found one soon enough and told the hunters how their leader had nearly been murdered. Jonathan knew he had been lucky that the group had been led by a brawler he’d fought alongside before, so the man had been inclined to believe him, and they’d followed him to the wharf where they took care of Jack’s body.

“You didn’t find the bastard who did this, did you?” Geoffrey asked hoarsely.

Jonathan shook his head. He knew he would find the ekon eventually, but he doubted that’s what the hunter wanted to hear. “At least they didn’t blame it on me,” he shrugged, which got him a small chuckle from McCullum.

“They know you better than that by now, it seems,” he said.

“Well, they still want to come round to check on you in the morning.”

“Aye, never trust a leech,” Geoffrey smirked, “I trained them well.”

“That’s not funny, Geoffrey,” Jonathan huffed, but he smiled anyway.

“Hm-m.” The hunter shifted comfortably against Reid’s support. “So, tell me, when did you start admiring my dedication and skills?”

“Why don’t we talk a little bit about you instead, _Mr McCullum_? When did you start trusting me?”

Jonathan didn’t really expect a reply to that question, so he accepted Geoffrey’s grumbled “Don’t know” as final.

But then the hunter continued. “It was—gradual,” he said eventually.

He knew there had not been an ounce of trust until Reid had spared him in the attic of the Pembroke. He had only begrudgingly entrusted him with the blood of King Arthur the next time they had met on the cemetery. But he had begun to see proof for the leech’s own claims of his innocence: His men, who, when they avoided the doctor, were never attacked by him – instead, he would sometimes show up out of nowhere, help them in particularly tough fights or patch them up when they were injured; the residents he met in the streets who praised the doctor’s selfless help and free medicine; the barkeeper and the patrons of the Turtle, who only spoke highly of the esteemed Dr Reid and his reliable character. His trust in the ekon had still been fragile at best after that, but despite his best intentions he had accepted Reid’s help on patrols on a more and more regular basis – and his men had been more inclined to accept the unlikely ally than he had, well, hoped. He wasn’t really sure what had changed and why, but he could no longer deny that he did trust Jonathan. Liked him, even.

“Does it really matter?” he mumbled.

Jonathan sighed quietly. “No, I guess it doesn’t.” He moved to extricate himself from the hunter, but Geoffrey grabbed his arm.

“Don’t go, please,” he begged. He was still freezing, and Jonathan offered a sense of comfort and warmth he hadn’t felt for such a long time. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had. “You’ll stay, won’t you?” he asked in a husky voice, and when Jonathan hummed in agreement, added, “You won’t bite me or anything, will you?”

Jonathan laughed. “Of course not.” He didn’t add anything after that, but positioned himself more comfortably and wrapped his arms around the hunter, more boldly than he’d thought himself capable of. “Get some rest, I’ll be right here,” he said after a while, but judging by the steady movement of McCullum’s chest, he’d already drifted off to sleep.

Just as Jonathan had warned him, Avery was summoned to the door by a quiet but insistent knock on the door the next morning.

“Is this the Reid mansion?” one of them asked, a big man with a pockmarked, somewhat brutal face. The other one, a young lad who didn’t look like he could be part of any armed gang of thugs, remained silent, but he gave the butler a curious look.

Avery nodded and stepped aside to let the two guards in. “You’re looking for Mr McCullum, aren’t you,” he said politely. “Please, come in.”

The guards thanked him and followed him into the hall. “So Dr Reid already told you we’d come,” the older guard stated, then stretched out his hand in greeting. “Name’s McIntyre, this is Mr Holton. Sorry to barge in on you like that, but we’re worried about Geoffrey. Is he all right?”

“You had better check on him yourselves,” Avery offered, genuinely surprised by the man’s affability. “He’s upstairs, last door on the left down the corridor, though he’s probably still sleeping.” He hesitated. “I just made some coffee, would you like some?”

“Aye, that’s very kind of you,” the guard smiled. “You go ahead, Duncan, I’ll quickly go check on the boss.” He went upstairs while the butler and Duncan disappeared in what he supposed was the kitchen – the butler didn’t seem particularly threatening, and the brawler saw no reason to distrust him, even if he was a leech’s butler.

McIntyre wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he opened the door, but it certainly wasn’t finding Geoffrey sleeping in the arms of a vampire. He tiptoed to the bed, checking, but McCullum really was asleep, breathing steadily, his features soft and relaxed. His wrists were bandaged carefully, and he looked like he had received a nasty beating, but his neck was uninjured, and there were no bitemarks.

For a split second, the brawler considered waking him up to make sure he really was all right, but then he decided to let Geoffrey sleep – though he was certainly _very_ curious how the leader of the Guard of Priwen had ended up in bed with the esteemed Dr Reid.


End file.
